


For the Flames

by Talullah



Category: Fight Club (1999)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 01:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2173761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marla's thoughts on getting her hand held while watching things blowing up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Flames

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was not betaed!
> 
> Written as a NYR for yuletide, for Cendri, whose request was "Marla Singer. Marla's thoughts on getting her hand held while watching things blowing up, really. Expand off of that if you want, I just think that would be interesting."
> 
> Written for tamingthemuse, for prompt #118: Mortal coil.
> 
> [Disclaimer/Blanket Statement](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/profile)

The sheer size of the explosions awed Marla. They were pretty, the same color of a lit cigarette tip. She should be scared to shit of kicking the can, shuffling her mortal coil, cashing in, checking out, closing the final chapter, or whatever people wanted to call it but his hand was warm on hers and she felt oddly safe. She was an odd girl, she knew it, but apart from sex with him, this was the most awesome thing she had ever experienced. Watching the world go up in flames, her hand tiny and secure in a schizophrenic psychopath's hand.

The explosions were over quickly but they stood there, him bloody and sore, her trembling slightly with excitement, looking at the rubble falling down. He never let her hand go, and Marla wondered at some point if _he_ felt scared. Because from all of those support group sessions she had been to, she had learned what a cry for help looked like, even if it was a silent one.

It was fine. Even if he was kind of lost and occasionally glanced away from the flames and the bustling below to look at her, as if expecting an answer to the big question: 'what now?.' She didn't have an answer. There was nothing of interest next, only here and now. Maybe they could go back to support groups, although Fight Club had taken all the fun in that. She didn't care.

Her ciggie was over and she threw it to the floor. If it caught fire, well just another building to go. She pulled his hand and said, 'come on,' without really knowing where she was leading him. They took the stairs down - the elevator was fried. He was in pretty bad shape but she enjoyed hearing him puffing and whining and leaning onto her. Midway, she stopped to clean his face from the worst of the blood.

He leaned forward, delicately placing his chin on her shoulder, slumping down to meet her. A hug. He wanted a hug. Marla wrapped her arms around him, thinking that maybe the support groups had not exhausted their utility yet. She wrapped her arms around him, felt him slumping further against her until she was pressed against the wall. He had a boner. Marla smiled. Even in that state, right after destroying the world, he had a boner, possibly for her, although it was more likely that it was for the flames.

Never mind that, she thought. She was a pragmatic girl and a boner wasn't something to waste. She should have probably have gone to a sex addict help group before quitting that shit altogether. She reached for his fly - a quickie against the wall felt so 'Henry and June' romantic... He took her hand and held it between them, sighing.

"Later, babe."

Babe. That was the first time he had ever given her an endearment, although he had certainly given her a lot of other things. She smiled again. By this smiling rate, her gloom and doom act would be ruined before next week. She shrugged and kissed his cheek.

"Okay."

"I wanna go home," he whispered. "Just wanna rest."

"You don't have a home, sweetheart," she pointed out. "Come on, I know just the place." She did. She hadn't thought of it before but, if it was still standing up, Marla knew just the place to call home and be as weird and happy as they could. Fairy tales, even post-modern ones, deserved a happy ending.

 

_Finis  
October 2008_


End file.
